


The Trees Are Calling (They Won't Stop)

by Writing_Doodle



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Fairly Local (Music Video), Gaslighting, Gen, Ghosts, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Limbo, Loss of Identity, Memory Loss, POV Third Person Limited, Psychological Horror, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural Elements, Surreal, because tyler is easily frustrated and impulsive af, kind of?, this is a mess, via punching walls and glass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Doodle/pseuds/Writing_Doodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was a shade of white and grey.<br/></p><p>Except for the trees. 

</p>

<p>Those were black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's Hope Out the Window (I've Seen The Streets You're Walking Down)

**Author's Note:**

> I was very much inspired by the Fairly Local music video because _aesthetic_. Also inspired by: Trees, Guns for Hands, and the Blurryface album in general. 
> 
> Major TW for suicide and mentions of suicide. I don't want to spoil anything, but yeah. It cuts things close at one point. Be safe guys.

Grey. 

White.

White on grey. 

Snow. It was snowing. 

No, it wasn't. But there was snow everywhere. 

He was in a building. Abandoned. Dark. 

He pressed a hand against a grey wall. It was cold. 

His feet shuffled. The snow built on his shoes, small piles of white on black. 

It stuck to his clothes. Also white. 

White on white. 

It was fascinating. 

The snow was pure, but his clothes were faded. The same color, but different. The innocent flakes seemed to stain the worn fabric. 

Or did the worn fabric stain the innocent flakes? 

A question for later.

He dragged his hand against the wall as he walked down the hall. 

There were windows at the end of it. Was it snowing outside? No. Nothing was outside. Grey. 

A swirl of grey with black trees.

He kept walking. The lights above him flickered.

:.: 

He stared at his hands. They were black. Stained. By what? 

By everything. 

His presence felt heavy in the desolate, snow covered building. 

One step would knock everything down. 

He'll fall through the floor.

He took a step. Nothing happened. 

He kept walking, turning at a fork in the hall. Trying not to look outside the large windows. 

The trees called to him. He didn't know what they were saying. 

.:.

There was a low buzzing sound. He looked up, squinted at the lights that were obviously on their last legs. 

His feet kept moving, he didn't know where.

His unoccupied hand started twitching. 

Fidgeting. 

A chill fell across the hall and he looked around nervously. 

He glanced at his reflection in the windows.  
His neck was black. He continued walking. 

The chill didn't let up.

:.: 

There was a door. A stark black against the grey whiteness of everything around him. 

He opened it.

The room was that of an abandoned motel. Dirty drab carpet. Beds that consisted of nothing but a frame and mattress. 

There was a nightstand with a clunky lamp on it. It flicked on and off sporadically. 

He closed the door and kept walking. 

.:.

Out of the corner of his eye was a flash of red. He turned, breath caught in his throat. 

Nothing.

Just white and grey. 

:.:

The air was still. 

He froze. 

A sound. Echoing through the hall. 

Drums? 

It stopped. 

He kept walking. 

.:. 

Where was he? Why was he here? 

The questions were in the back of his head but he didn't address them. 

Everything moved slowly. Quietly. He was sure it was a dream.

But it was too solid. The cold was too real. 

Another flash of red.

It was just a dream. 

:.:

He spoke out after wandering for what seemed like an eternity.

"Is anyone there?" His voice was brittle like the building around him. Thin and breaking. 

A flash of red. Longer this time. It almost looked like hair.

It was gone.

There was no answer.

"Hello?" He tried again before clamping his mouth shut.

He felt hands around his neck. 

He didn't talk again. 

.:.

He hummed a song that seemed to fit the mood of the place he was in. 

His hand drummed idly at the wall. Black fingers stained the white. 

It was an eerie tune. He wasn't sure how much he was influenced by the place or how much the place influenced him. 

The drums responded to his voice. They were solid. 

When he stopped to listen, they kept going. 

:.:

There was another room.

Another black door jumping out from the grey whiteness. 

The steady drum beat pounded in his ears. 

He opened it.

Inside was nothing but a mirror, frosted over from the cold. 

He slowly stepped into the room. 

His reflection was blurry, black like his hands and neck. 

He fidgeted with his hands and the reflection followed suit. He was about to walk out when something caught his eye. There was another reflection in the mirror.

A silhouette. 

Different clothes, different build.

Another person. 

The drums pounding in his ears were loud. 

He opened his mouth, nothing came out. 

He touched the mirror and it shattered. 

Pieces fell everywhere but disappeared as soon as they touched the floor.

There was no one there. 

He was alone.

The drum beat stopped.

.:.

He was in a large room. 

Cavernous almost. 

Snow fell lightly from the ceiling.

Fog covered the ground thickly. 

His feet crunched against the snow covered floor as he paced around. 

He held out a black hand, hoping to catch some of the impossible flakes. 

He didn't. 

They seemed to evaporate before reaching their would-be destination. 

He sighed, rubbing his hands against his pants, hoping to wipe the paint off. 

It didn't work. It only stained. 

The growl that ripped out of his throat surprised him. 

He stared at his hands. They were shaking. 

They only stained. 

:.:

The trees continued to call to him as he wandered down the endless halls of the abandoned building.

He wondered how long ago it was abandoned.

He still didn't know what the trees said, but they called. They wouldn't _stop_. 

The hand dragging across the wall was clawed, the sound of nails scratching old drywall shrieked in his ears.

That didn't do anything to drown out the noise of the trees outside. Trees as black as the paint on his hands. 

He idly wondered if they would stop calling to him if he just went outside, if only he knew where the exit was. 

_"The exit is through the window._ " 

He stopped.

The trees stopped.

Everything stopped. 

He didn't breathe. 

He was afraid to speak after what happened last time. But this was another person. He couldn't let the opportunity go.

He opened his mouth. "He..." His voice cracked from not being used in... however long he was here. "Hello?"

_"Don't listen to the trees."_

"Why?"

_"He's there."_

"Who?" 

The Voice didn't answer his question. He paused, listened in case it finally would. 

Then the drum beat started again. 

.:.

The drums were steady, low. 

He saw flashes of red in the corner of his eye. 

"Is that you?" He tried, prompting the Voice to speak more. 

He kept walking, there was a long pause. 

_"Yes."_

"Where are you?" He looked around, trying to catch sight of the person the Voice belonged to. 

_"Nowhere. Everywhere. You loose track."_

He didn't know how to respond to that. 

He followed the drum beat.

:.:

"Who are you?" He asked as the silence started to crush him. 

_"No one."_

"Are you real?" 

_"I'm honestly not sure."_

He wasn't sure either. The voice didn't seen to come from everywhere.

It wasn't something he heard. It was something he _knew_. Something his mind registered, but his ears didn't. 

He let the silence crush him once again.

.:. 

"Is there any other exit besides the window?" He glanced nervously at the large panes lining one side of the hall. 

_"Yes. Somewhere. I don't remember. I never found it."_

"Where are you?" He asked again. 

_"Nowhere."_

The answer was final. 

For some reason that pissed him off. 

His fists clenched. His neck twitched. 

He punched the closest window, the glass shattered. 

The air blowing in chilled him to the bone. The trees called louder than ever. 

They seemed to reach over, with their long shadowy branches. 

He saw a figure slinking in the distance. 

A creature made of white and black and _red_. 

He backed away from the gaping wound in the side of the building, glass crunching under his feet. 

He cradled his now bloody hand against his chest. 

_"Did that help you feel better?"_ The Voice wasn't mocking. 

He still bristled, "Where are you." 

The Voice sounded tired. "Everywhere." 

:.:

Within a few minutes his wound was gone and his clothes were clean. 

He examined his once injured hand. 

The paint was still thick. It was almost like tar. It dripped down into the snow covered floor. Staining it. 

He felt his neck, knowing that the thick substance was there too. 

He rolled up his sleeves, the blackness extended to his elbows. 

"What is this stuff?" He asked, mostly to himself but partially to the Voice. 

The Voice didn't answer for a long time. _"It's Him."_

"'Him'?" 

_"The one in the trees. He leaves His mark on everyone who comes here. Stakes His claim."_

"You mean there are more people here?" 

_"Were."_

He let that sink in. "What... happened to them?" 

_"Some wandered until they lost hope. Until the building took them. Others..."_ The Voice trailed off. 

"What? What happened to the..." He looked at a window. "Oh." 

There was a tense silence, only marred by the crunch of snow and the sound of wind. 

"What did... Do you mind me asking..." 

The Voice didn't answer. 

He took a deep breath and tried again. His voice shook. "Where are you?" 

The Voice answered. 

_"I'm with the trees."_

.:. 

The drum beat kept its steady rhythm. 

Sometimes it would get really loud and pound in his ears. 

Sometimes it would be so low that he had to strain to hear it. 

He followed it. 

He didn't know why but they felt safe. 

"Do you hear those drums too?" He asked the Voice. 

_"Yes."_

He felt relieved. He was afraid that it was just him. 

"Do you know where they're coming from?" 

The Voice was quiet for a long time before responding, _"No."_

"Ok." 

He kept walking. 

The drums got quiet. 

:.:

"Do you - did you have a name?" He asked.

_"A long time ago."_

He waited. 

He concluded that that was all he was going to get for now. "Oh." 

_"What's your name?"_

He brushed off the shock of the Voice asking him for something. Of the Voice doing more than answer his questions. 

"It's..." He didn't remember. 

His breath hitched. 

He felt hands around his neck as he struggled to recall, becoming more and more solid until - 

_"Calm down!"_

He took a deep breath, sputtering and choking. 

He sunk to his knees, clenching his fists into the snow as he struggled to regain proper breathing. 

The Voice seemed to hover over him, in a way. Almost like a friend waiting for him get up. Extending a hand for him to take...

But voices aren't physical. 

They can't help in any way. 

He controlled his breathing and pushed himself off the snow covered floor. 

He ignored the fact that the flashes of red became more and more frequent. 

.:. 

He sat in the snow, closing his eyes. 

_"You can't stop."_ The Voice warned. 

He grit his teeth. "I'm tired." 

_"No you're not. You can't be tired in here. That's the building getting to you."_

He squeezed his eyes shut and curled into a ball. The snow bit at whatever exposed skin he had. "Just let me sleep." 

_"If you go to sleep you won't wake up. Please, get up. Please."_ The Voice sounded desperate. 

He growled harshly before yanking himself off the floor. 

He kept walking, the Voice egging him on. 

.:.

He looked out the window, wringing his black hands. 

He saw the creature again. 

It was darting between the trees, never visible for long.

White and black and red. White and black and red. 

It looked almost human. But not. 

He touched the glass and hissed at the chill that suddenly filled the room.

 _"Hey."_ The Voice was low, warning. _"We should keep going."_

He didn't want to keep going. 

But his legs moved of their own accord. He saw another flash of red.

He noted that it was the same color as the thing in the trees.

.:. 

He punched a wall. 

He didn't know why he punched the wall, but it felt right. 

The wall held a small crater where his fist connected. 

His hand stung and throbbed.

Blood dripped onto the floor. 

Red on white. 

He felt a perverse satisfaction in the destruction he caused to the building and to himself. 

It was relieving.

He continued to walk. 

The paint on his hands felt a little bit thicker. 

:.: 

_"Are you ok?"_

"Why do you care?" 

The Voice paused for a long time and he dug his fingernails into his palms. 

_"Because I do."_

"How do I know that?" 

_"Because... I just told you?"_

"How can I trust you?" 

The Voice paused like it was slapped. _"Wh-"_

"How can I trust you?" He yelled again, slamming his fist against the wall. Black splattered. He breathed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Who are you?" 

_"I'm just trying to -"_

"Who are you?" His tone was sharp, his voice cracked. "How do I know you're not _Him_." 

The Voice sputtered. _"I'm no one, not anymore. I'm. I'm just someone who got caught up in this mess and wants to help you get out of it."_

"How do I know you're not lying?" 

_"You have to trust me."_

"How can I?" He screamed. He gestured wildly, thick black paint splattering the floor and the walls. The windows were untouched. "You just appear out of nowhere and decide to help me? You just suddenly think I'm worth helping? What took you so long, huh? I asked if someone was there in the beginning, why didn't you answer then? Why did you wait until I was thinking about the exit. About the trees?" 

_"Because-"_

"Because what?" He didn't let the Voice speak. "Because you don't want me to escape? Is that it? Is there no exit? You said 'The exit is through the window' and then you told me not to listen to the trees. Is it because you don't want me to leave? You want to keep me here so you'll have company? Is that it?" He took a few deep breaths, staring at his dripping hands.

_"This isn't you talking, it's _Him_. Please just listen-"_

"Why?" He snapped, not wanting to hear any of it. "You can't do anything. You're just a voice. You can't help, you can't force me to do anything. You're probably not even real!" Then he stopped, eyes widening at the epiphany. "That's it." He whispered. "You're not real." 

_"Don't do this, please."_ The Voice pleaded. 

"You're not real, you're not real. None of this is real. It's all just some messed up dream. It's not real, how can it be? You just don't want me to wake up!"

_"No! No - _please_."_

"I'm not listening to you anymore!" He slammed his hands over his ears and grit his teeth. He approached the window. "I'm getting out of here." 

_"No!"_ The Voice choked. _"Please, please."_

"I can't hear you."

He pushed the window open, letting in a wave of bitter cold wind. 

The twisting black trees seemed to perk up at this action. Their branches waved in the wind, almost touching him. Almost grabbing him.

They called out to him as they have many times before.

Except this time, he understood what they were saying. 

[Jump. Jump. Escape.]

He felt relief wash over him. He was right, this was the way out. 

[Jump and escape. Be free!]

He stepped onto the sill and grabbed the edge of the window. It was large enough for him to stand upright.

He looked down. The drop wasn't that far.  
He could finally be free. 

[Jump!] The trees called, sounding so _earnest_. Sounding so happy at the prospect of him leaving the building. 

He didn't realize that he started crying. 

His fingers slacked. He teetered on his heels. 

And then... 

He felt someone roughly pull him back into the building. 

The trees shrieked wordlessly. He could no longer understand them. 

He felt the air get knocked out of his lungs as his back hit the floor. He wheezed in pain and rolled on his side. The snow was cold against his face, stinging him. 

He felt someone stand over him, but he didn't open his eyes. He refused to. 

Until they spoke. 

"Are you ok?" 

It was the Voice. 

He opened his eyes slowly, sat himself up, and turned around. 

There was a boy standing above him. He was wearing a black scarf that covered the bottom half of his face. The boy's hair was bright red and shaved in a mohawk. He had equally as red paint smeared across his eyes. 

Those eyes looked concerned and scared. 

He slowly stood up from the floor and faced the boy, eyes wide and uncomprehending. 

"You're..." 

"Yep." The Voice nodded. "I am." 

"How?" 

"I have no idea." He shrugged, before his whole body flickered briefly out of existence. He grimaced. "I just know it won't last long. We need to hurry." 

"Hurry where?" He stood there dumbly as the Voice took his hand and led him far away from the window where the trees were still screaming. 

"Away from here. We need to find the exit. I can't let another person die. I can't." The Voice griped his hand tighter, ignoring the dripping paint. 

"Die." He repeated shakily.

The Voice nodded solemnly, sending a worried glance at him. "You notice how the drop wasn't that far? Yeah, I thought I can survive too. It's not the drop that kills you, man. It's what's hiding in the trees." 

He felt a rock fall into his stomach. "So I'm trapped." 

"You're doomed if you stay in here, you're doomed if you go outside. There's an exit though, I know there is. Somewhere that will take you _away_ from here. _Away_ from this hell."

"How do you know? How are you so sure?"

"Because I have to be." Came the grim reply. "Look, I know you don't trust me. I'm sorry. I understand, it's hard to trust anything in this place. But please. You have to _believe_. This place can't touch you if you _believe_ that you can get out." 

"What if there isn't a way out, though?" 

"You can't think like that!" The Voice snapped before apologizing. "I'm going to get you home. I'm going to save at least _one_ person here even if it kills me." 

He swallowed. "But you're already dead. Aren't you?" 

The Voice sighed, briefly looking very scared and lost. "I know." 

They stopped talking. 

.:. 

He felt incredibly guilty as he was being dragged down the halls. 

He didn't deserve the Voice's kindness. Not after doing what he just did. 

"I..." He choked on the words he wanted to say. He didn't want to say them. He didn't want to admit it. 

"What?" The Voice looked at him, stopping briefly. 

He squeezed the words out of his throat. "I... I didn't really care if I was gonna make it or not. I kinda wanted to _not_ make it, you know?" He took a few deep breaths, rubbing the side of his face with his dripping hand. "I don't deserve this. You shouldn't do all of this for me. I don't - " 

The words died in his throat as the Voice hugged him. 

He stood there, dumbfounded. Making no move to hug back. 

He couldn't breathe.

"Don't say that." The Voice whispered fiercely. "You deserve to get out of here. You deserve to _live_ , even if you didn't want to before." 

The Voice released him from the hug, took his hand and continued forward. 

He didn't know what to say. 

:.: 

"Do you have a plan?" He asked hesitantly. 

The Voice has since let go of his hand - saying nothing about the black stains it left behind. He pulled his scarf off his face, too. 

"Yeah." The Voice nodded, red hair bouncing. "We find the stairs." 

"Oh. Okay." 

It made sense. Why would the exit be on the second story? Not counting the windows. 

Silence. 

The sound of snow crunching. He looked down, there was only one pair of footsteps.

The person in front of him didn't seem to make his mark anywhere he went. His feet touched the snow but left nothing behind. 

He flickered. 

He wasn't there. 

He didn't exist. 

"Say something." The Voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. 

"Wha-" 

"We can't lapse into silence too long or he'll get you. Like last time, with the window." 

He didn't like the thought of his actions not being his own. Of his words not being his. "How do you know he got to me?" 

The Voice turned his head and looked at him in the eye. "Your eyes. Your eyes were red." 

He couldn't imagine himself with red eyes. The thought was chilling. 

He said nothing. 

"Please." The Voice asked again, slowing down so that he could be next to him. "Tell me something, anything. Keep talking. Don't get caught up in your thoughts." 

"I don't know what to say. I barely remember anything about myself." 

"The more you talk, the more you'll remember. Trust me. Maybe I'll remember a thing or two about myself? Do you have a family?" 

"Yes." He answered automatically. "A mom and dad. Two brothers, a sister. You?" 

"A... Mom and dad I think. Yeah. I think I had siblings. I don't know." A pause. "Any hobbies?" 

"I don't know." He answered. 

"Reading, video games, writing, instruments..." 

"I played the piano." He answered, surprised at himself. "And the ukulele. I wrote too. Poetry mostly. You?" 

"I don't know -" The Voice stopped walking for a second, staring into space. "Drums." He whispered. "I played the drums." He broke into a wide grin that scrunched up his face. "Keep going." 

"How long have you been here?" 

The Voice shook his head. "Time doesn't exist here, there's no way of telling." 

"How old are you then?" 

"I don't know. How old do I look?" 

"Around twenty. Mid to late twenties." 

"Really?" The Voice looked surprised. "I feel a lot younger. How old are you?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. Age doesn't matter." 

"You look around the same." 

"Hm." 

Silence. 

He didn't know what to say to break it. 

He didn't want to break it. He didn't want to talk. 

Talking was weird. 

Talking was _hard_. 

He felt his hands twitch. He wrung them. 

The person in front of him flickered again and his distress rose slowly. 

:.: 

"Please talk." The Voice pleaded. "I can practically feel your anxiety." 

"I don't... I don't know what to say." He played with his fingers. "Talking isn't my strong suit. I'm sorry." 

"It isn't mine either." The Voice put his hand on his shoulder, only for it to be shrugged off. "Please, just say something. We can't have your thoughts spiraling out of control again." 

"How can you say that? You're the one that's been talking this whole time!" He felt anger bubble up in his chest. "Is that your attempt to relate to me? You don't understand. You can't understand!" 

The Voice sighed deeply. He pulled the scarf back up and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You don't know how hard this has been for me." He murmured. 

"What are you talking about?" 

The Voice sighed again. Looking around the room, searching for something to change the subject to. 

He found nothing. 

"I have," He clicked his tongue in annoyance. " _Had_ , I guess, a lot of trouble speaking in front of people. Speaking _to_ people. When I was alive - ugh, it's so weird thinking like that - I had some severe anxiety issues." He paused for a bit to collect his thoughts, to decide what to say. "It was hard to put myself out there. Whenever I talked in front of people I would be on the verge of a panic attack. It was awful." 

The Voice laughed bitterly. "I guess I'm talking a lot now, huh?" He ran his hands through his hair restlessly. "My entire existence has been reduced to nothing but a voice. Kind of have to speak a lot then, huh?" 

He slumped his shoulders, defeated. "I almost forgot all of that. Now it's all flooding right back. You. You're easy to talk to for some reason. I feel like I can trust you with all of this. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm doing all the wrong things to gain your trust. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushy. It's just. It's been a long, long time since I've gotten this far with someone. I don't want you to die. Not like the others." He tugged at his scarf. "I don't think I'll be able to take it." 

"You have a nice voice." He said, simply. Not knowing what else to say. It was a lot of information all at once. "It's soothing." 

"Thanks." The Voice's mouth was covered but it sounded like he was smiling. "No one's told me that before." 

There was a brief moment of silence before something dawned on him. 

"Is that why you took so long to talk to me? Why you waited until you had to?" 

The Voice nodded. "Yeah. It's hard, starting something like that. I was afraid you'd freak out. I'm sorry I caused some doubts because of it." 

It's ok." He said - sincerely, to his surprise. "I totally understand, man." 

The Voice hummed in acknowledgment. "So you do have any baggage you want to talk about? If you can? It's... Freeing, actually." 

He looked at his feet as they shuffled through the snow. He was silent until something popped into his mind. "It's hard, sometimes, to go to sleep at night. It makes you feel so small, so insignificant. The night does. So I would stay up and reflect. On a lot of things. It was hard. To deal with all that. You know? My mind would go on and on and it wouldn't stop." 

He started playing with his hands as he rambled on, words coming out of his mouth like a waterfall. 

"You just want to shut it off, you know? You grapple with thoughts of purposelessness and... and insignificance. And it'll seem much nicer if it'd just stop. And I tried a few times. Ha... Didn't work obviously." He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head. 

His eyes skirted around his surroundings in an attempt to calm himself down. He couldn't stop speaking. "Uh. It was a really bad night when I realized something. If I go, the people I left behind wouldn't be able to understand some of the things I wrote. And that helped. I had that to give me some purpose. I understood what I wrote. I understood what I created and I was the only one who did. I had this knowledge no one else had. It helped a lot. It gave me an outlet for all of those negative thoughts. Of course I still struggled, but it wasn't as bad." 

He dropped his hands and forced his mouth shut. "That's it." He whispered. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

The Voice looked at him, his eyes filled with unmasked empathy. He asked, "How do you feel now?" 

His chest felt... lighter. The hand on his shoulder felt like a lifeline, even if it wasn't completely there. "Better." 

He went to pat the hand on his shoulder, but stopped when he noticed something. 

"Look." He breathed. 

The paint on his hands was thinner. 

He could actually see a bit of skin. 

:.: 

"I'm sorry." He said as they continued to walk. He absently rubbed his hands in some attempt to get the rest of the paint off. It didn't work. 

"For what?" Questioned the Voice, tilting his head inquisitively. The scarf was pulled down again. He didn't want it to be pulled back up. 

"For not trusting you. For snapping at you. For causing you all this trouble." 

"It's no trouble at all." He gave him another crinkle eyed smile, before it faded into a more serious expression. "I understand. It being hard to trust me. You've been through a lot." 

"Not as much as you." 

The Voice hummed. "It's still no problem."

"Why are you so determined to get me out of this place?" 

"Because," He flickered again, voice cracking statically. For a brief second, he looked pained. "Because you're _alive_. You don't deserve to die in a place like this. _No one_ does." 

He let that hang in the air before saying, softly, "I'm sorry." 

"I already told you it's fine–" 

"No." He shook his head and wrapped his arms around the Voice. He hugged him tightly as if he was afraid that he'll disappear - which could very well happen. "I'm _sorry_." 

The Voice was stiff, taken aback by the display of affection. Slowly, he relaxed into the embrace, tentatively wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you." 

They both let go and continued walking, not another word spoken between them. 

The air seemed to be a little warmer. 

.:. 

It wasn't snowing anymore. His feet didn't crunch as sharply. 

The ground was wetter. 

The heat steadily increased. 

The Voice looked around with his eyes narrowed slightly. "This never happened before." 

"Really?" 

The Voice made a low, half distressed noise in the back of his throat. "Really. I don't like it."

"Maybe it means we've gotten closer to the stairs?" 

The Voice shook his head. Vibrant red hair flying. He flickered, a bit more violently that before. Form distorting into static like a picture on an old TV. "The drums." He swallowed. "I can barely hear the drums." 

He had forgotten about the drums, with everything that's happened. It was shoved in the back of his mind. They seemed unimportant. 

He finally noticed their absence and he felt empty without them. 

"The drums. What are they?" 

"Hope." Was all the Voice said before his form decided to dissolve again. It took him longer to collect himself. "Follow the drums and you'll find the exit." 

"You mentioned that you played the drums." He looked at the Voice's face, trying to gauge a reaction. "Is that you? Playing them?" 

The Voice smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't know. I don't see how. I've been dead for a long time. My body's dust by now." 

It was almost casual, how the Voice said it. He shivered, despite the growing heat. "Maybe it has something to do with your soul?" 

The Voice laughed sharply. "Maybe." 

They dropped the topic, but he still listened. 

.:. 

He abandoned his hat and jacket. 

He never realized that the hat was red. 

As red as the paint around the Voice's eyes. As red as his hair. As red as the Thing outside. 

It was left somewhere in the melting snow. 

The Voice did the same. Abandoning his scarf and jacket. He had a tattoo covering his right arm. It was of a tree, but it was so different from the trees they've seen. It was full of leaves and surrounded by bright swirling colors. It seemed to make the place warmer. 

Seemed to fill it with a sense of hope. 

He didn't question it, knowing that the Voice wouldn't know the meaning behind it anyways. If it even had one. 

He rolled up his sleeves, revealing strange glyphs on his right arm and black bands on his left. They were previously covered my paint. 

He knew that there was a meaning to them. He wished he knew it. 

The drums were quiet, almost completely silent. 

The Voice continued to flicker and dissolve.  
His chest was tight and grew tighter still with every step. 

He never had any sort of control, but now was the first time he truly felt it. He was terrified. 

The paint on his hands and neck grew thicker with every step. 

The Voice noticed. 

"Stop walking." He said. His mouth was pursed, gears were turning in his head. After a few seconds of standing still he added, "Let's take a break." 

They walked until they found a door. 

Inside was a room much like that of an old motel. 

It looked familiar. 

"I thought you said that we can't stop. That we can't get tired in this building." 

"I said nothing about being tired." The Voice sat on an old bed with a bare mattress. He curled his knees to his chest. 

The tattoo looked even brighter in the new light. 

He sat on the other bed. He waited. 

"I don't have much time." The Voice admitted. "I can feel my grip on this body slip away." 

"Then we need to hurry!" He didn't mean to yell, didn't mean to sound so desperate. 

The Voice just shook his head. He looked tired. Worn down. "I don't want to spend my last moments with you wandering and loosing hope. I know you're loosing hope. I can feel it." 

"We can't find the staircase. It shouldn't be this hard. The building shouldn't be this big." 

A small laugh. "It doesn't have a set layout. It has no reason to make sense to any of us." The Voice rested his head against the wall. He stared at the ceiling. "I used to believe in aliens. I don't know if I still do. Belief is a hard thing to hold on to in this place." He winced as his form dissolved again. 

It was starting to take a physical toll on him to keep it together. His breathing grew harsh. His forehead shone with sweat. 

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes. "I don't want you to go. I don't know what I'll do." 

The Voice gave a tight, but genuine smile. "I'll still be here. I just won't be able to speak again for a while. I hope you'll be out by then." The Voice's eyes flicked from the ceiling to him. 

"You're strong. I know you are. You made it this far. Further than anyone else. It wasn't me that caused that. _You_ were the one fighting to survive this whole time. _You_ were the one who kept waking. You didn't need to listen to me. You could've easily ignored everything I said. But you didn't. You're going to make it." 

Tears fell from his eyes. Before he knew it, he was sobbing. 

The Voice slowly climbed off of the bed and moved closer. 

He looked up through his tears at the rapidly fading form in front of him. 

"Do you remember your name?" 

He was about to reply that he didn't, of course he didn't. But he found himself saying, "Tyler Joseph." 

Then he was wrapped in a hug. A tight hug filled with more comfort and _compassion_ than any hug he ever remembered receiving. 

"I believe in you, Tyler Joseph." The Voice said into his shoulder with so much _conviction_ that it made him cry more. 

"P-please." He didn't have time to curse how his voice cracked. "What's your name?" 

"Josh Dun." 

And in a blink, the Voice was gone. 

Josh was gone. 

And Tyler cried until he didn't have any tears left. 

.:. 

He wiped his eyes, left the room, turned a corner, and saw the stairs. 


	2. I've Got Two Faces (I Know Where You Stand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started to drag out so I had to split the chapter up. 
> 
> Enjoy! :))

The stairs were, surprisingly, normal. Normal stairs you would probably see in a parking garage. Narrow and dark.

But normal.

Tyler sat on the top step - watching the snow slowly melt and drip down. 

He wondered what that meant, the snow melting. He thought it was a good sign. It felt like a good sign. 

But Josh was so scared of it... 

He got up and walked down the steps. The idea of it almost being over left him shaking. 

 

:.: 

 

The water was deeper on the lower level. 

Tyler's shoes sloshed, socks getting wet.

The lights were a harsh red, not the soft blue like the floor above. 

The drums were louder. His ears pounded.

He knelt down and dipped his stained hands into the water. He scrubbed hard and was delighted to see that the paint wore off. 

He scooped up as much water as he could and rubbed it against his neck.

The dirty water soaked his clothes, but Tyler never felt happier.

He examined his hands. They still had some paint on them, but it was patchy and thin.

He smiled.

He was free. 

 

.:. 

 

The windows were larger. A floor to ceiling view of the grey landscape and black trees. 

Tyler stared outside. 

The second he saw something move his head snapped forward and he kept walking. 

 

:.: 

 

"Josh?" Tyler vaguely heard his voice echo across the hall. Echo against the glass windows and bounce back at him. He looked up, trying not to hope too hard for an answer.

Nothing.

He felt his heart sink. 

Loneliness was a cold feeling. 

 

.:. 

 

The lights were harsh and they made the shadows around him so dramatic. 

It made the water almost look like blood.

Tyler shuddered and wrung his hands. 

He looked out the windows again. There was no light flooding though it. Nothing to lighten the dark hall. To chase the shadows away.

The landscape was as featureless as it could get. Just grey and black.

Black, grey, and red. 

He missed the white. 

 

:.: 

 

Tyler followed the drums but they seemed to take him nowhere. He tried not to get discouraged by it.  
He knew that the building was bigger than it should be. 

He knew that the building was probably fighting against him.

'You know that there probably isn't an exit, anyway.' Whispered a small voice in the back of his mind. 

He pushed it away, but he still clenched his fists and bit the inside of his cheek.

"I can't think like that." He whispered. His voice was still thick with tears. "I'm almost there." 

'Are you?' 

Tyler bit his cheek so hard that he tasted blood. 

 

.:. 

 

Tyler tried not to look outside. He _tried_. 

But it was hard, when he kept seeing flashes in the corner of his eye. 

Flashes of red that were all too familiar. Flashes of red that were impossible. 

Flashes of red that he _knew_ wasn't what he wanted it to be. 

He _knew_. 

But still, he looked outside.

And his only sight was the twisted, black trees. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept moving forward. 

 

:.:

 

They called freely now that he was alone. Now that he didn't have someone distracting him. 

The trees were louder than ever. 

It took all his strength to not claw at his ears as the noise worked it's way into his head. 

 

.:. 

 

He saw more flashes of red. Just at the edge of his vision. Just outside the windows. 

He dug his fingers into his arms and willed himself to not look outside again.

 

:.: 

 

"Tyler. Your name is Tyler." He whispered, rubbing the side of his face. He kept repeating the words. Using them as a lifeline.

He kept grabbing at the name, even when it started to pass right through his fingers. Like it didn't exist.

It never existed.

He was never anyone. 

"Tyler." He whispered a bit more urgently, hands tugging his hair. "Your name is Tyler." 

 

.:. 

 

"Your name is Tyler Joseph. You write poetry when you get overwhelmed. You play the ukulele. You were a basketball prodigy." That last one surprised him briefly, before _yes that's right I was_ flooded his mind. "You are a person. You are more than this situation. You are going to get out of here and continue on with your life." 

The words sounded hollow to his own ears. 

He knew that he didn't imagine the cold laughter that followed him down the halls. 

 

:.: 

 

Tyler was being followed. He knew that. 

By what? He knew that too. 

The Thing In The Trees was going to make an appearance soon. He could feel it in his bones. He could feel it in how they ached. In how cold they were. 

So he silently walked forward, twisting down endless halls. Waiting. 

Waiting. 

 

.:. 

 

He didn't have to wait long. 

In the blink of an eye, the feeling of being followed was more... substantial. He was acutely aware of a presence walking next to him - right outside the windows. 

He wrung his hands, debating the pros and cons of stopping. 

He didn't see any pros, only cons. 

He kept walking. 

 

:.: 

 

He stopped, eventually. The morbid curiosity was too much. 

He stared at some point in front of him, twitching his fingers. Then he sucked in a lungful of air to steel himself, held his breath, and looked out the closest window.

The breath was knocked out of him in a sharp gasp. Outside of the window was... him. 

Him.

He was staring at himself.

He was aware that his jaw was hanging open. That he looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. 

Not Tyler smiled something that wasn't a smile. 

Then he opened his mouth and said with a voice that wasn't quite a voice, **"It's about damn time."**

 

.:. 

 

Tyler didn't know how long he stood there, staring. 

Uncomprehending. 

He remembered opening his mouth a few times to speak. To say something. He couldn't. His throat just made a sick noise in between a choke and a wheeze.

Not Tyler stood there, patiently. 

No. Not patiently. 

Patience implies compassion. The ability to wait for someone out of the goodness of your heart. 

There was no patience or compassion in how he stood there, watching him flounder. It was sadistic. He was enjoying it. 

The Not Smile never left his face. If anything, it grew wider. 

**"Speechless?"** He asked, tilting his head slightly. The Not Smile opened, teeth flashed. **"I _am_ quite a lot to take in."**

He - Tyler, he reminded himself, his name was Tyler - tried to shake himself out of his stupor. "I... You're. This isn't possible." Tyler ran his hands (the paint was thick again) through his hair. "You're. Me. How?" 

His only response was a laugh that sounded like glass shattering. 

Tyler tried not to cry as he felt an excess of paint drip down his arm. 

 

:.: 

 

After what seemed like a forever of vicious laughter, Tyler walked forward on trembling legs. 

Not Tyler followed, keeping his pace perfectly. 

Every stop to breathe and calm down. Every stumble in the water. He kept his pace perfectly. 

 

.:. 

 

As insults echoed around him, Tyler figured out what made his voice not _quite_ like a voice. 

He sounded like Josh. But not. 

The voice itself was his. A smooth version of his voice that sounded like polished glass. 

But the feeling was the same as when Josh spoke. 

But not. 

It was more physical than Josh's voice. 

Josh's voice was nothing more than a _feeling_ he didn't hear. (Until he became physical and then it was all too real.) 

This... Thing. _His_ voice was something More. Something Tyler felt but also _heard_. 

Something that cut right through Tyler's ears and soaked the inside of his body like dirty water. 

Dirty water or black paint. 

 

:.: 

 

Tyler looked at his hands. He almost remembered the time when he first stepped downstairs. When he washed most of the paint off. When it was patchy and thin and _barely there_. 

It was thick. It was dripping off of his fingers and into the water below, stained red by the lights. 

Red and black, red and black, red and black. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked forward. 

He ignored the jeers coming from outside. He ignored the water soaking his feet and ankles. He ignored everything around him. 

He tried to reduce his existence to nothing other than, _follow the drums and get out of this building._

 

.:.

 

Tyler tried.

He didn't succeed. 

 

:.:

 

"Who are you." Tyler demanded, not looking outside. He trained his eyes on the red lights above him until they were seared into his cornea. 

**"Oh, he's talking now."** Polished glass. Smooth, beautiful, and entirely unfitting. **"I won't tell you until you acknowledge that I exist."**

"Isn't talking to you enough?" 

**"Seeing is believing, didn't they ever tell you that? You can talk to a lot of things that aren't real."**

There was a pang in Tyler's chest that he didn't quite understand. He ignored it. "I guess I won't get an answer, then." 

A pause. 

**"You'll get it eventually."**

And Tyler hated that he knew he was right. 

 

.:. 

 

He didn't last long. Too many questions burned at the tip of his tongue. 

It just took a look, right? That's it? 

Tyler grimaced as he turned his head to face his doppelgänger. Dark brown eyes met red. 

(Red? Didn't Josh mention something about red eyes?)

He smiled his Not Smile and said in his glass smooth voice, **"My name's Blurryface."**

And suddenly Tyler's head was filled with a mess of sounds that were too _much_ to be actual sounds.

Cacophonous and jarring. A waterfall inside an engine. High pitched whines and the screeching of nails on drywall. The sound of trees as they _burnt to the ground_ \- 

Fire. The sound of fire. 

And then. 

Nothing. 

White noise. Static. And a voice. 

A voice he didn't hear. A voice he _saw_. A voice that looked like a shattered mirror. 

_[And I Care What You Think.]_

 

:::

::

:.

..

.

 

Tyler didn't realize that he passed out until he found himself lying in ankle deep water. 

He was face up, thankfully. Drowning in such a shallow pool wouldn't've been the most dignified way to go. Especially in front of Not-  
(Blurryface.) 

He bolted upright, water splashing violently as he tried to grab onto something, anything. He squeezed his knees instead, bunching any extra fabric into his fists. 

It felt like his brain was expanding. Pressing against his skull and trying to burst out. 

Pain. Throbbing. Dull and sharp at the same time. As sharp as a dull knife. He pressed a thumb harshly against his temple. 

"Blurryface." The word fell out of Tyler's mouth like a rock. A rock sinking down, down, down into the pit of his stomach. "I care what you think." Not even a whisper. Too soft to have been spoken. 

The hallway around him spun and faded in and out as he regained his bearings. 

He pushed himself up and tried his best to stumble forward. He was soaked to the bone. 

Snow danced in his mind and nausea settled in. 

 

.:. 

 

He was alone and then he wasn't. 

**"You weren't supposed to wake up."** Polished glass dipped in black paint.  
Tyler clenched his fists and spun to face the voice. 

Blurryface was studying him. Examining him. Something almost like confusion tugged at his eyebrows. 

"What did you do to me?" 

The confusion turned into anger. Cold anger that still burned. 

**"You weren't. Supposed. To wake up."**

Tyler felt himself cower at the tone laced with venom and hatred. He tried to steel himself again, but his trembling hands didn't allow it. "What do you mean?" His voice cracked in half. Shards flew everywhere. 

Blurryface pressed a paint stained hand against the window. Tyler resisted the urge to back away, though he couldn't resist the urge to visibly flinch. 

**"I don't understand. You're so weak. How did you wake up?"**

"A-am I supposed to be dead?" 

Blurryface didn't answer. Instead he scratched down the window, staining the air with a hideous shrieking noise. His eyes burned. **"Apparently. I underestimated you."**

Tyler could tell that he didn't do that often. Tyler could tell that the idea of being outsmarted in any way infuriated him. 

Tyler forced himself to calm his breathing before he said, "Maybe y-you're just not as strong as you think." 

In a flash, the anger melted away from Blurryface's features. His hand was off the window and he was the picture of calm. 

The complete 180 made Tyler's head spin more that it already was. 

**"Maybe. Maybe I overestimated myself. That happens. But there are ways, Tyler Joseph. There are ways."**

And in a blink he was gone. Tyler was alone once again. 

He walked forward, one thought trying to fight for dominance in his head. 

_'He knew my name, how did he know my name?'_

He ignored it. 

 

:.: 

 

Tyler listened. 

Even when he was alone, it wasn't quiet. There was always some sort of noise to occupy his ears. 

The drums pounding from a location that seemed to keep changing.

The trees whispering in their Not Quite Words. 

The water splashing as he picked up his feet.

The building itself settling and creaking as if it would collapse any second. 

Even the snow outside was loud as it fell to the floor and pressed against the windows. 

It was so loud. Tyler wanted it to be quiet, just for a little while. 

Then all of a sudden he didn't. 

 

_-sometimes quiet is violent-_

 

The words ripped through his mind and they felt _so familiar_ it ached. 

They were gone as soon as they came. 

Tyler felt empty. 

He didn't know why. 

 

.:. 

 

He was turning down another hallway when something suddenly struck him. 

Tyler looked to the right.  
The windows were still there. 

The windows were always there. Always lining one side of the halls. 

No matter how many hallways he turned, no matter how deep into the building he should be - they were always there. Always there to give him a crystal clear view of the outside. 

Tyler stared out those large windows, watching the black trees and the grey snow that looked too much like ash. 

A primal part of him was disturbed by the inconsistencies of the building. Moreso than he should be, compared to the other things he's seen and experienced. 

But it was so... _wrong_. The sense of wrongness was almost overpowering. 

Tyler rubbed his neck and shifted his feet in the water.

He tried to shove the feeling into the back of his mind, but that space was already too full of the other thoughts he tried to push away. 

 

:.: 

 

Tyler's skin crawled as if it was covered in a million bugs. He kept rubbing his arms to try and alleviate the feeling. It didn't work. He kept trying. 

He could feel eyes on him. He didn't need to think twice to know who's eyes they were. He flinched as a strong chill ran up his spine. But he kept walking. 

He kept walking. 

Wouldn't Josh be proud? 

 

.:. 

 

 **"I don't understand how you can keep going."**

Tyler didn't want to admit he was relieved that he wasn't alone anymore. 

He bit his tongue and kept walking. The drums were a bit louder, as if to encourage him. 

**"I knew that humans were stubborn, but you. You're on a whole other level."**

Tyler felt his mouth twitch into a mirthless smile. The idea of him being strong in any way was bitterly amusing.

**"You have nothing to lose, or win for that matter. Why don't you just give up?"**

He didn't break his stride until he heard a sharp crack. 

Tyler froze. He slowly turned to face the windows. Blurryface was there, his hands clenched against the glass. A large spider web crack filled the otherwise crystal clear pane. Thick black blood dripped from one of his fists. Staining the glass. Staining the snow. 

It reminded Tyler of the paint on his hands and neck. The thought made him want to gag. 

**"Answer my question. I'm tired of the silent treatment."**

Tyler backed as far away from the window as he could. He couldn't hide the fear he felt, he didn't even try. He shook like a leaf. Blurryface looked amused by it all. 

"I-I... I'm..." Tyler decided to close his mouth and wait for his frayed nerves to pull themselves together. 

Shattered glass laughter echoed around him. 

Tyler swallowed his fear and tried again. "I... How can you say I have nothing to lose?" 

Blurryface was silent. Mulling over Tyler's shaky words. **"Because you do."**

"I have everything to lose." 

**"Like what?"** A smirk. **"Your sanity?"**

"My _life_." 

A long pause. 

Seconds turned into minutes. 

Tyler tried not to squirm under Blurryface's red eyes. Whether he succeeded or not was debatable. (He didn't.) 

Then laughter. 

It wasn't even the shattered glass laughter. It was something... else. Not sharp or cruel. It was. Actual laughter? Did Tyler see genuine amusement in his eyes? 

The laughter started to break into shards and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt himself relax. This. This was familiar. 

**"You don't know."** Blurryface laughed around the words. 

Tyler felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was vaguely aware of the paint dripping off his fingers. 

"What don't I know?" He voice hitched. He didn't like not knowing. 

**"This is honestly amazing. Humans. You guys are _hilarious_."**

Tyler felt any fear he once had melt away. A wave of confidence washed over him. He walked up the window (the large crack was long gone) and stared the creature directly in the eyes. "What don't I know." It was no longer a question.

Blurryface smiled, eyes glinting with a little more malice than before. His teeth were sharper. Tyler clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. 

**"Not yet."**

"What do you mean." 

**"I won't tell you. Yet. I'm saving this little piece of information."**

"Why." Tyler placed his hands on the window, ignoring the chill that fell across the room. He felt the water freeze around his ankles. 

Blurryface titled his head back and his smile dropped. The glint in his eyes brightened. It looked almost like fire. 

**"Because it would break you and I'm don't done playing yet."**

 

:.:

 

"I'm not a toy." The words floated out of Tyler's mouth like smoke. Insubstantial. 

He was alone again and every nerve in his body was on fire. Or. It felt like it. 

Those red eyes burned through him. Right into his soul and set it aflame.

 

 _-I Will Set My Soul On Fire-_

 

Tyler yelped as a sharp pain exploded behind his eyelids. Black spots danced in his vision.

Then it was gone. 

Tyler found himself leaning heavily against a wall. He looked out the window and caught his reflection. 

Exhaustion seemed to hang off him like a heavy cloak. His face was gaunt, almost skeletal. His eyes were sunken, bags prominent. 

Stubble. Wild hair. White clothes stained with black paint and water. 

He rubbed his face absently. It was a strange experience, watching his reflection do the same. It almost didn't feel real. 

 

 _-what haveibecome-_

 

Tyler winced and pushed himself off the wall. He steadied himself with his hand and kept walking forward. 

Kept following the drums. 

 

_-ims o r r y-_

 

.:. 

 

The second he stopped to rest, he moved forward again. 

Josh's words echoed in his mind. 

_"You can't stop. You can't get tired. That's just the building getting to you."_

He repeated the words to himself until they were nothing more than sounds with meaning. Until they were ingrained in his head and barely felt real. 

The drums picked up volume. 

Tyler almost felt hope. 

 

:.: 

 

He was listening so hard that he didn't notice Blurryface returned. 

**"What are you doing?"**

Tyler almost jumped out of his skin. 

He quickly glanced at the figure standing amongst the trees and snow. He didn't want to give him an answer. 

But he didn't want a repeat of the last time he tried to hold his tongue. The image of the spiderweb crack filled his mind. Would Blurryface be able to break the windows completely? Be able to walk into the building and finish this whole mess once and for all? 

Tyler shuddered at the thought. But that's all it was. A thought. Tyler knew that the window would repair itself too fast for it to be broken. 

He knew, but he was still terrified. 

"I'm listening." He answered, walking froward. 

**"To what?"**

"To the drums." 

There was a tense pause as Tyler kept listening and Blurryface let the words sink in. 

**"I don't hear anything."**

Tyler's heart skipped a beat. His fingers twitched. "What?" 

**"I don't hear anything."**

Tyler stopped walking. He tried to keep his breathing under control as he turned to face the windows. 

Blurryface's eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion, head tilted. A slow smile spread across his face, as he saw Tyler's face. 

Tyler could hear his own heart beating. The drums pounded in his head, louder. Louder. So loud. 

"How can you not–" 

**"They're not real, Tyler. The drums aren't real."**

 

.:. 

 

Tyler couldn't begin to describe how he felt when he heard those words. 

Punched in the gut? Not enough. Hit by a car? No. 

His ears rung. 

His vision blurred.

His mouth dried up. 

His fingers went numb. 

He felt... He felt like.... 

He felt like he was floating in space without a space suit. Like someone opened the airlock and he was sucked right out. 

"What?" His voice was small, even to him. It was barely loud enough for his own ears to register. 

Tiny little shards of glass. 

He didn't hear Blurryface's reply. 

He didn't feel anything.

The drums pounded in his head again. 

Was that it? Were they just in his head? 

They pounded desperately. Tyler felt sick.  
He felt the water splash around him. Felt it soak through his pants. 

He didn't acknowledge it. He didn't see the room around him.

All that was there was him and the drums that weren't real. Were they? Josh said they were real... Was Josh fake too? 

A sob he didn't hear.

The hope that had built in his chest was ground into dust. 

 

:.: 

 

Eventually the ringing in his ears stopped. 

His vision cleared. 

He regained feeling in his fingers. 

His mouth was still as dry as a desert. He was painfully aware of all the water surrounding him.

 

 _-and I... haven't found a drop...-_

 

He picked himself off of the floor. 

That was the second time he collapsed, Tyler noted, wearily. Water dripped from his pants. He couldn't work up the energy to feel uncomfortable. 

He looked out the window - Blurryface was still there. Smiling cruelly. 

**"Are you done having a panic attack?"**

Tyler just stared. He felt like he aged ten years in a few minutes. Hours? How long was he out of it? It didn't matter. 

He was exhausted. 

"The drums." His voice was dry and brittle. Like kindling for a fire. 

**"Aren't real."**

"But..." Tyler rubbed his forehead vigorously. His hand slid down his face and rested on his pulse. He tapped his neck erratically. "J-Jo...." He didn't want to say his name. He didn't want a confirmation for his fears. "Josh. Josh heard them. He said he heard them." 

**"Josh?"** Blurryface tilted his head again and rose his eyebrows. Tyler felt his stomach churn. 

No. 

_Nononononono._

His legs shook. He quickly backed against the wall to brace himself.  
Blurryface's vicious smile only grew. 

"Stop. Stop that." Tyler squeezed his fingernails into his arms. "Stop that!" 

**"Stop what?"**

"Smiling. Stop smiling like that!" 

**"Why? You have to admit, it's kind of funny. In a way. That explains why you were able to go on for so long. You convinced yourself that there was a sound to follow. That there was someone encouraging you. It's sad. But funny. Hilarious, even."**

"I didn't make him up!" Tyler winced as the scream ripped through his dry throat. He didn't mean to raise his voice like that. It did nothing to convince the other that he wasn't crazy. 

Blurryface held his hands up in a mock surrender. His wolfish grin faded into a small smirk. **"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to step on a nerve."**

"He... It's not possible. I almost jumped! He pulled me back! He was _real_." 

**"Are you sure about that? The human mind is a powerful thing, so I've observed. It doesn't take much to convince it that something's real. Especially in high stress situations."** He shrugged. **"But, hey, maybe _I'm_ wrong here."**

"I'm... I'm not crazy." Tyler dug his fingernails deeper into his arms. "I'm not." 

**"Never said you were. Confused, maybe. Desperate, definitely. Not necessarily crazy."** A look of pity. 

And that was the last straw. 

Tyler launched himself forward and punched the window as hard as he could. 

A crack spread across the glass, much bigger than the spiderweb crack from earlier. Blood poured down his sliced knuckles. Blurryface's red eyes were wide with something akin to shock. Or fear? 

"Don't you dare." Tyler breathed. He pressed his palm against the shattered glass, ignoring the cuts it formed. "Don't you _dare_ act like you care." 

The window fell apart around them. A rain of glass. 

They were both frozen. Tyler's breathing was heavy. He squared his shoulders and stared directly into those red eyes. Daring him. 

Blurryface backed up. Annoyance flashed across his face. **"I'll be back when you've calmed down."**

Then he was gone. 

 

:.:

 

Tyler stared at the floor. He watched the water leak outside. The window didn't repair itself. Ice cold wind stung his face. 

He wondered why Blurryface didn't attack him when he had the chance. 

Maybe he couldn't enter the building. 

Tyler sat down and stared out the window. Every part of his body was screaming at him to run outside and try to escape. 

He didn't want to risk it. 

As soon as he stepped outside he was dead.

Was he? 

Josh told him that. 

Josh... 

Josh wasn't real. Was he? 

Tyler rested his head on his knees. He took a few deep breaths. 

He was real. 

He knew he was real. 

Josh touched him. Josh led him around. Josh /saved his life/. 

He was real. 

He was real. 

Tyler didn't realize that he started to cry until he was shaking. He sobbed into his knees. 

He screamed. Screamed louder than the trees outside. 

He slammed a fist down on the ground. Glass dug into his skin. He didn't react. He watched the blood pool.

He didn't feel anything. 

 

.:. 

 

Tyler didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the trees ahead of him. 

He swore that he saw figures move amongst the branches.

Like fog. 

He was probably seeing things.

He grimaced and put his head in his hands. 

He was _definitely_ seeing things.

The trees were screaming. Urging him to walk outside and find a way out via the forest. The forest of black trees. It looked like they were burnt down. Covered in soot and char. Dead. Their ashes floated around and covered the floor.

Maybe he was hallucinating that too. Maybe the trees weren't saying anything.

Trees can't speak. 

Trees can't make noise.

He _was_ crazy. 

He wanted to scream again, but his throat was raw. 

 

:.: 

 

He didn't want to move. He didn't see a point anymore. 

The drums weren't real. That explained why they led him nowhere. 

Josh wasn't real. That explained how he was able to flicker and disappear like that. 

This place wasn't real. 

That explained why the layout didn't make sense. 

It was all a demented dream. 

 

.:. 

 

Was he even real? 

He didn't feel real anymore. 

He looked at his hand. The glass was no longer imbedded in his palm. The blood was gone. There was no evidence of it's previous state. 

There were still a few larger shards on the ground next to him. He picked one up. 

The glass cut his fingers. A small bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the floor. 

He didn't feel anything. 

 

:.: 

 

What was his name again? 

 

.:. 

 

He felt like he was made of lead. He couldn't move even if he tried. 

The drums were a distant sound. 

They barely reached his ears. 

He's going to die. He knew that. If he didn't move soon, he was a goner. 

He felt a presence in front of him. 

He looked up.

Blurryface stood over him. His eyes gleamed with a wild light brighter than fire. Like a cat who cornered a particularly elusive mouse. 

**"I was hoping I'd still see you here."** He sat down. 

He didn't answer. He didn't have enough energy. 

**"You look like death."** Blurryface noted. **"I'd be happy if it wasn't for the fact that you've been going so strong. It's pathetic."**

He accepted the insult without a change of expression. His eyelids weighed a hundred pounds. He fought to keep them open, but that was rabidly draining what little energy he had left. 

**"I told you that I was saving a piece of information? That I didn't want to break you yet because I wasn't done playing? Well, you're no fun now, not like this. I might as well put you out of your misery."**

He stared. Fighting to keep his eyes open. 

**"You're dead."**

That elicited a response. "...what?" A voice like ash. 

**"You're dead. You've been dead this whole time. Think of this place like a limbo or purgatory. There's only one option: cessation of existence."**

"I'm... dead?" 

Blurryface nodded. **"I'm only here to speed up the inevitable. No one's been able to hold on as long as you have."**

"Josh... mentioned that." A small spark in the back of his mind. 

**"Josh again, huh?"** The voice was harsh before it was smoothed over. **"He doesn't exist, Tyler. He never did. Just let it go. Don't prolong the inevitable. It'll only cause pain for you and frustration for me."** He held out his hand, it didn't go over the sill. **"Let's just end this, yeah?"**

He stared at the hand. Then he stared at his own. The black paint was dripping. 

"I have a question, first."

 **"What is it?"** Annoyance laced the words. 

"My hands. Is there black paint on my hands?" 

Blurryface controlled his expression carefully. |"No. There isn't."| 

"I see..." He stared at the open hand waiting for him. He was so tired. Slowly he reached to take it. 

Their hands were about to meet. 

And then. 

Blurryface screamed. 

It was an awful, awful sound. Nails on a chalkboard. Glass grinding back into sand. A building caving in on itself. 

He covered his ears and stood up. A burst of adrenaline coursed through him. 

Blurryface was writhing in the ash-like snow. His form dissolved and reformed itself again and again. Countless times. So many different people.

It was him. 

Then it was a girl with bright blue hair.

Then a man with glasses and a hat. 

A man with a tangle of curly hair. 

A girl with orange hair like fire. 

Then.

Josh. 

He backed up. How  
did he know what Josh looked like? Josh wasn't real Josh wasn't real Josh wasn't – 

Another scream. 

Another mess of noises that _didn't go together_. They weren't even definable anymore. Discordant sounds.

**"NO NO NO"**

He felt the wind get knocked out of him. That was Josh's voice. That was his voice. But it was so _wrong_. 

Blurryface rolled over and stared at Tyler directly in the eyes.

Red eyes on Josh's face. 

He launched himself forward, but a force kept him from entering the building. 

His heart beat out of his chest. 

**"I WAS SO CLOSE. I WAS SO C L O S E."** A primal sound. A growl more animalistic than human. **"YOu WERE almOST D E A D. I ALMOST H A D yoU."**

As the creature pounded on the invisible wall, its form dissolved more and more. 

Paint rolled off of it like waves. Red and white and black paint. 

Whatever looked like Josh melted away. 

Whatever looked human was gone. 

Red and white and black. Shifting patterns on a vaguely human shape. Trees. Birds. Zigzags. Stripes.

Erratic patterns. 

It kept pounding. Paint splattering whenever its fists met the surface. 

He pressed himself as close to the wall as he could manage. Fear. Complete and utter terror.

He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He could barely breathe. 

Josh. 

How did he turn into Josh? 

Josh wasn't real. Josh was a hallucination. 

Josh wasn't real. 

How did he turn into Josh? 

Did that mean. Josh was real? 

He started hyperventilating without realizing it. 

Josh was real. 

Josh was real.  
He was tricked. 

He almost died. 

Again. 

Or was that a trick too? 

A wave of nausea sent him to the floor.

 

_-everyone gather around for a show-_

 

He stared at the scene in front of him with growing horror. 

Figures emerged from the trees. The same figures he thought he saw earlier. The ones made from fog. Only this time they were solid. 

 

 _-watch as this man disappears as we know-_

 

Blurryface continued to scream, it clawed at the figures surrounding it.  
**":YØU:CAN'T:T A K Ê: MĘ:"**

_{Watch us.}_ One of them answered back. 

 

_-do me a favor and try to ignore-_

 

A flurry of motion and Blurryface was being dragged into the frost of dead trees. It screamed and fought the whole way. **"..::.I KIŁL Ē d :Y Ø Û:. ALŁ ON Ç E. Y O ù ;ča n T; KiL L:..mE..:BåC k.::.."**

Eerie, atonal screams. Like microphone feedback and static. 

He thought his ears were going to bleed - they started to ring so loudly. He saw one of the fog-like figures give him a sympathetic smile. He thought he saw glasses on its face. 

 

 _-as you watch him fall through a bleeding trapdoor-_

 

And Blurryface was gone. Taken into the trees to be ripped apart. 

 

:.:

 

He sat there, staring. Barely processing what just happened. 

His ears rang. He tasted a bit of blood in his mouth - he didn't realize he was biting his lip so hard. 

He didn't know what to do. 

 

.:. 

 

Suddenly, someone was standing over him. 

A soft sigh. "I really hoped I wouldn't see you again." 

His heart leaped into his throat. Slowly he looked up, eyes wide. "Josh?" A broken whisper. 

Josh smiled. The red paint around his eyes was gone. He looked down. The black paint was gone too. 

"Hi, Ty." Josh held out a hand. "Let's get you home." 

Tyler shakily took it. 

It was solid. Warm. 

For the first time since he's entered the building, he actually smiled. 

"Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is tying up loose ends + the end.  
> Can't believe I made it this far tbh. 
> 
> Like always, I'm my own beta so if you catch any mistakes please say! Feedback very much appreciated!


	3. Now the Night is Coming to an End (We're Broken People)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope this chapter makes up for it! 
> 
> Sad to see this fic go, but mostly really relieved. This is the first time I've finished something and it feels.... freeing.

They were quiet. 

Tyler held onto Josh's hand tightly like a lifeline. He kept squeezing it as if he was afraid that it wasn't real. That his hand would pass right through.

Josh didn't comment.  
Tyler was thankful for that. 

 

.:. 

 

"I'm dead." Tyler said. Processing it. 

"Technically. Not really." Josh replied. "You still have a chance of getting outta here." 

"Did you know? This whole time?" There was no accusation in his voice. Just acceptance. 

"I... didn't want to stress you out more. It was a mistake, though. I'm so sorry, Tyler." 

"It's fine, I get it. I don't think I would've believed you anyway. I'm good at denial." 

A laugh that sounded like hot chocolate. Something warm and comforting. 

"What's so funny?" Tyler couldn't help but sound a bit nervous. On edge. Good laughter wasn't something he was used to. Good laughter meant that something was going against him. 

Josh noticed and tried to smother the sound as best as he could. "Sorry." He coughed. "Honestly?" Nothing's really that funny. Just what you said kind of... flipped a switch.  
Things have been so tense. I think it's good to laugh sometimes, even when there's nothing to laugh about. _Especially_ when there's nothing to laugh about." 

Tyler mulled the words over. "I guess." He looked around the halls briefly before adding, "You have a nice laugh." 

"Bet you do, too." 

"Nah, it's annoying." Tyler didn't even remember how he laughed, he hasn't laughed in so long. Not since he's been in the building. A part of him knew that he didn't laugh much before that either.

"I call BS." Josh looked thoughtful for a moment before a smile spread across his face. "What do ghosts eat for dessert?" 

"Are you seriously making a joke right now?" At Josh's insistent look Tyler sighed. "What?" 

"I scream." 

"Oh my god." Tyler snorted a little. "That was awful." 

"I've got more. What did the ghost have in his rock collection?" 

"What?"

"Tombstones." 

Tyler laughed a little harder. "That was so bad, Josh." 

"Wait 'till you hear this next one. What do you call a ghost's shoes?" 

Tyler just waved his hand, not able to open his mouth without giggling. 

" _Boo_ -ts." 

Tyler laughed so hard his stomach hurt. He leaned on Josh for support as he held his sides, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.

The jokes were awful. There was really nothing funny about them, but at the same time there _was_. He understood what Josh meant by 'flipped a switch'. 

As he was wheezing, he realized that Josh was laughing with him. Tyler steadied himself and wiped his eyes. 

Josh looked at him with a huge smile on his face. "I knew you had a nice laugh." 

Tyler shoved him, somewhat roughly. "Shut up." He couldn't see his face, but he knew his smile was just as wide. He could feel his cheeks ache. "Thanks for that." 

They continued to walk down the halls. The tension Tyler felt in his chest was lightened considerably. 

 

:.:

 

"I started to remember some stuff." 

"Really?" Josh rose his eyebrows. "Like what?" 

"Stuff I wrote. They'd just... pop into my head. Then they'd leave. But now they're staying. Does that mean anything?" 

"Probably because we're getting closer to the exit." 

"But why am I remembering a few dumb poems? Shouldn't I start remembering things that are a little more... Important?" 

"Maybe those 'dumb poems' _are_ important." Josh shrugged. "I can't say, I've never read them. I don't know how important they are to you personally. But maybe, there's a reason why you're remembering them before anything else. Maybe it's a sign." 

Tyler looked at the floor and shuffled his feet, eyebrows knitting together as he thought. "Maybe it is." 

 

.:. 

 

They stood in front of a mirror. 

It wasn't frosted over like the floor above. Tyler could see his reflection perfectly. 

It was weird seeing his neck without black paint all over it. 

Josh's reflection, though... Josh's reflection was still nothing more than a blurry silhouette. Tyler tentatively pressed a finger against the glass - he was surprised that it didn't shatter like last time. 

"Can you see your reflection?" 

"No." If Josh still had the scarf, he would've pulled it over his face. "I haven't seen what I looked like in a... long time." 

Tyler kept switching his gaze from the boy next to him to the blurry figure in the mirror. 

Then he took his hand. He didn't really know why, it just felt right. 

A sharp gasp. Josh stared at the mirror. Eyes wide, face pale, hands shaking slightly. 

Tyler saw his reflection, but he also saw Josh's. Perfectly clear. 

"Is that what me?" A small whisper, voice cracking near the end. 

"Yeah." 

And Josh was crying. Silent tears steaming down his face. His hand clenched around Tyler's almost painfully before he let it go. 

Tyler didn't know what to do. Josh stood there shaking with his head in his hands. 

"Are you okay?" Tyler knew that it was a dumb question. Of course things weren't okay. He just wanted to know _what was wrong_. 

Josh seemed to know what he was really asking, though. "I... I look so different. I've changed so much, it's. Overwhelming." Josh wiped his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. "I'm sorry, for freaking out like that." 

Tyler mumbled a small, 'it's okay', before looking at the mirror again. He's changed a lot too.

There was something different about he way he held himself. His skin was a bit too pale, like the color was drained. His eyes looked like shattered glass. There was something mesmerizing about it. Seeing himself so broken down. 

He felt Josh slowly take his hand again. He didn't comment. 

Looking at their reflections side by side, Tyler noticed something. 

Their eyes matched. 

 

:.: 

 

Josh stared at his hands. "I still can't believe that that's me." 

Tyler didn't have anything to say to that. He could only imagine how distressing it would be to look in a mirror and see something completely different. At least with Blurryface he knew that that _wasn't him_. He gave Josh a sympathetic look. Josh caught it.

"I'm fine." He replied, rubbing his face. "It's just... I don't know." 

"What did you look like before?" 

Josh shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He turned his back on the mirror. "C'mon, we have to go." He left the room. 

Tyler took one last look at the mirror before following him out. 

 

.:.

 

"Who were those people?" 

There was a long pause.  
"They were the people I couldn't save." Josh's voice was soft, barely reaching Tyler's ears. 

Tyler immediately regretted asking. He tried to look out a window to escape the newfound awkwardness that filled the hall, but he was surprised to see that there were none. 

He stopped walking.   
Josh stopped too, but Tyler knew that it wasn't to look at the nonexistent windows.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before replying, "Oh." 

Josh's eyes briefly skirted along the wall. Where the windows should be. 

Tyler still didn't quite process that they _weren't there_. They were _always_ there. 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He forced his eyes away from the blank wall and focused them on Josh's face. 

"It's fine. They got their revenge in the end. Everything's good now." Josh smiled. Strained, but genuine. 

"The windows are gone." Was all Tyler could say. He mentally kicked himself as Josh chuckled. 

"Yeah, they are." He dropped the hand on Tyler's shoulder, opting to hold his hand instead. Fingers laced together. Josh squeezed them briefly, mumbling, "I think that's a good thing." 

"You think?"

"I think." 

And that was good enough for Tyler.

They kept moving forward. 

 

:.: 

 

"They were planning it for a long time." 

Tyler was silent. He waited for Josh to continue, not wanting to rush him. 

"They... They were scared. And angry. They didn't want to fade away into nothing. So I tried to make up for not being able to save them. I kept them... real. I didn't let them fade away. I didn't let them forget who they were." 

Josh's hands started to tremble. Tyler quietly took one. 

"I... They. I don't remember who came up with it first. Mutiny. Make Him pay for taking away everything. That. That gave them more purpose than anything I could've ever gave them. It gave them a goal to work towards. To be able to keep themselves physical long enough to take Him down." 

"They're different from you." Tyler couldn't help but voice. The figures he saw were like fog. Josh was solid. _Real_. 

Josh ran his hands through his hair. Tyler noticed that the color faded. It was more pink than bright red. 

"I guess. We're all the same. Maybe I'm stronger. I don't know." He sighed sharply. "None of the other kids remembered. How they died. That they _were_ dead. I think that's what always set me apart. Maybe that's why I'm stronger. Maybe that's why I didn't fade away after I died again. After He killed me." 

Tyler hesitated to touch on such a sensitive subject, but he felt his mouth open anyways. "How did you..." He couldn't bring himself to finish. 

Josh's shoulders slumped slightly. He seemed so small. "If I knew what would happen after, I never would've done it. This is my punishment, I think."

Tyler felt his stomach clench up. 

_Oh._

"I mentioned it, didn't I? How hard it was for me to talk to people? To be _around_ people?" 

Tyler nodded, mouth too dry to speak. 

"That really... weighs on a person. I was so tired of it all, I thought - I didn't think. That's the thing. I didn't think and now I'm here." 

Tyler wrung his hands. He didn't know what to say. What to do. "If you weren't here, I'd be dead." 

Josh tugged his hair in frustration. "You don't get it. It's _my_ fault you almost jumped out of the building in the first place. I've messed up so many times, Tyler. Whatever I try to save, I kill." 

"But you didn't kill me." Tyler squeezed Josh's hand, but Josh pulled it away, flinching slightly. Tyler didn't try to take it back. "You helped me, Josh. More times than you think you hurt me. You were what I held on to. You can say that I'm the one keeping myself going as many times as you'd like, but we both know that's not true. It was _you_. You urging me to go on, you _believing in me_." 

Josh stopped tugging his hair. He looked at Tyler in shock. 

Tyler sighed, breath hitching slightly. He looked away, staring holes into the plain white walls. "You know what almost made me give up? Blurryface convinced me that you weren't real."   
He heard the sharp gasp Josh tried to smother. He took another deep breath before continuing. 

"You were so important to me, Josh. _You were what I was holding on to_. Don't try to tell me I don't get it. Don't try to devalue all of the things you've done."

Josh opened his mouth before closing it. He looked at the floor. 

"Josh?" Tyler stayed where he was. He held out his hand. "Please don't beat yourself up. C'mon. Let's end this whole thing." 

Josh looked up, hastily wiping his eyes with the back if his hand. He took Tyler's. "O-okay. Yeah. Let's... Let's keep moving. I'm so-" 

"You have nothing to be sorry for." 

 

.:. 

 

"Blurryface?" Josh asked a few minutes later. 

"Did he ever tell you his name?" 

Josh shook his head. "No. He's always just been 'Him' or 'The Thing in the Trees'. Blurryface..." Josh laughed slightly. "Stupid name." 

Tyler smiled. "Yeah, now that I think about it. It is kinda dumb." 

"Why did he tell you?" 

"I don't know. He probably thought I would die after."

Josh stopped walking. He looked at Tyler. "What do you mean?" 

"He did something. I dunno what." Tyler shrugged. "I can't describe it. I heard him... but it was in my mind. And then. Noise. I just heard _noise_. Then I woke up laying in the water." 

Josh took his shoulders and stared at Tyler in the eyes. Tyler shrunk slightly under the intense gaze. "How did you survive?" 

"He asked me that too." 

"No. No, I don't think you understand. He was in _your mind_. That's how he kills people, Tyler. He gets in your mind and fucks everything up. He triggers all of your worst memories. Reminds you of all your insecurities... He..." Josh was crying again. Tyler shrugged off his hands and pulled him in for a hug. Josh cried into his shoulder. 

"He... It's everything all at once. Your brain just shuts down. You die of shock and overstimulation. So, how are you still alive?" 

Tyler ran a hand through Josh's hair. He noticed that the roots were starting to show brown. "I don't know. None of that happened to me. It was just noise. Maybe it was because I was still inside the building. It protects us, doesn't it?"

He remembered how Blurryface tried to get to him, but was blocked by something. How he banged on an invisible wall and couldn't get though. 

Josh lifted his head. He looked almost guilty for crying again. "I don't know. Sounds like it." He backed away, quickly wiping his eyes and looking around. "It's breaking down." 

"What do you mean?" Tyler felt his heart stutter.   
Josh felt the blank wall. His fingers were light against the rough surface. He looked far away. "The windows are gone." He mumbled. 

"Yeah. I- I thought we already acknowledged that." 

"There's nothing outside." 

"Josh? You're starting to weird me out, man."   
Josh looked like he broke out of a trance. "The windows showed us the outside right?"

Tyler nodded his head slowly. 

"Well, the windows are gone. There's nothing left to show. The outside doesn't exist anymore. It's just the inside of the building now. This place is breaking down." 

Tyler tried to wrap his mind around that. "But why?" Was all he could manage to ask. 

"What if this place wasn't supposed to exist. Blurry— that's what you called him, right? — what if he isn't supposed to exist either? What if... some _thing_ came into existence when it wasn't supposed to. Created a place so that it can prey on innocent souls. People who should've gone somewhere _Else_. What if... The place it created fought back. Couldn't handle it's own existence and found a way to _fight back_. What if now that Blurry's dead or... whatever happens to things like that. The place doesn't have a reason to exist anymore. What if it's breaking down?" 

Tyler stared at Josh dumbly. "If the place is breaking down, why is it doing it so slowly? Shouldn't it just... poof? Cease to exist?" 

Josh hummed and stared around the hallway like he was seeing it for the first time. "What if it's still here for the same reason I'm still here?" His brown eyes focused on Tyler. They seemed younger somehow. "It has unfinished business it needs to take care of." 

Tyler suddenly felt responsible. For what, he really didn't know. 

Drums echoed through the hallway. The vibrations cut through him, but it was comforting. He felt whole. 

Tyler grabbed Josh's hand. "We're close to the exit. I can feel it."  
Josh smiled brightly. "Me too." 

 

:.: 

 

"What do you think would happen to you after?" 

Josh's face was impassive. "I don't know." He shrugged, scratching the back of his head.   
His hair was a dark brown now. All traces of red were gone. 

Tyler looked ahead. "What's gonna happen to _me_. I don't remember how I died, what if it was a mess? How can I explain coming back to life?" 

Josh squeezed his hand. "Technically you're not dead, yet. This place might not supposed to exist, but it did give you a second chance. You're still alive, Tyler. Just barely." 

"So what, then? I wake up in an ER somewhere? Would I even remember any of this?" 

"I hope to God you don't." Josh mumbled, flicking a strand of hair out of his eye. His hair was straightening, slowly. The sides were growing back. "I could only imagine the therapy." 

Tyler probably shouldn't have laughed at that but a breathy chuckle escaped his mouth all the same. "Wouldn't that be an experience? Talking to some dude about how I died and went to a limbo where I almost died again." 

"They'd probably try to convince you that it was all a dream or a way of coping with trauma." Josh smiled wryly. "That's usually how it goes in the movies, isn't it?"

Tyler smiled back. "Yeah." He tried to keep his eyes forward, but they kept drifting back to Josh. 

There was a sense of finality in the air. 

"I don't want to forget you." Tyler whispered, stopping in his tracks. 

There was a door at the end of the hallway. It was simple, black. 

Foreboding. 

Tyler knew that this was it. He wanted to be happy, but he felt gutted. 

Josh looked back and _God_ he looked so young. 

His dark brown hair swept across his forehead and feel past his ears. His eyes were brighter, deep bags gone. He was still pale, but it wasn't as sickly. 

Josh smiled softly and Tyler noticed a ring in his lip that wasn't there seconds before. "I don't want you to forget me either, Ty." Josh wrapped his arms around Tyler and squeezed tightly. It registered numbly in Tyler's mind that this was their last hug. He forced himself to return it. He forced himself not to cry. 

Josh pulled away. He looked into Tyler's eyes, serious. Concerned. _Sad._ "If you do, though, it'll probably be for the best. I'm _dead_. You're _alive._ It won't do any good for you to dwell on me."

Tyler didn't want to accept that. He tried to shake his head, but he couldn't bring himself to. He knew that Josh was right. He hated it, but he knew. 

"I wish I knew you before." Was all he can say. 

"I wish I did, too." Josh gently held Tyler's hand and led him to the door. 

"It'll be fine, Ty. I'm gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine." 

"I know." 

"Thank you." 

"For what?" Tyler's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

"For everything." Josh replied, setting Tyler's hand on the handle. His hand felt cold when he pulled away. 

"That's supposed to be my line." Tyler tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. 

"Well, it's good to mix things up once in a while." Josh's smile was cheeky. Bright. _Happy._. Tyler was all of a sudden struck with the thought that this was what Josh looked like when he died. Straightened hair, lip ring, bright eyes, too young _too small._

Tyler nodded, gripping the doorknob tightly. "Good night, Josh."

Josh laughed. "Good morning, Ty." 

Tyler turned the knob and opened the door. Light flooded the room, engulfing the two. 

Tyler couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. 

But it didn't freak him out.

It was warm. He was floating. 

Tyler felt something he hadn't felt in long, long time. 

_Peace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: josh finally gets to cry 
> 
> There's still an epilogue after this :))

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know when the next chapter will be up, I already started it but this one took a month to type out. 
> 
> Feedback is _incredibly_ appreciated - I usually don't write nearly this much and I'm really happy about it. If you catch mistakes, please say!


End file.
